


salt

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 05:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7604479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They kiss like salt.</i>
</p><p>(on first kisses, and careless promises.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	salt

**Author's Note:**

> (doing some housekeeping of stuff from my drabble blog! more where this came from)
> 
> first posted [here](http://larkwords.tumblr.com/post/140073763328/haikyuu-iwaoi-kissing)

 

 

They kiss like salt.

Gritty, tangy, between their lips, on the tips of their tongues, tingle running right down through the back of Oikawa's throat and then it's dry, dry as the burning desert sand.

He slides a hand, thirsty, round Iwaizumi's neck. Rough, and his sensitive fingertips explore their atlas, map out what's _his_ , in between breaths; traces out the strong lines of the muscles in his back, his shoulders, tense. He presses closer, so there is no space at all between them, and comes up gasping.

Sweat stains his palms, _his_ sweat, _their_ sweat.

With infinite, unspeakable tenderness, Iwaizumi lays his forehead on his.

 

/

 

Oikawa Tooru is five when he decides Iwaizumi Hajime will be his first kiss.

It's not a big deal. He decides it, for no particular reason, on a summer's day, when Iwaizumi's hair is tangled in his fingers because he's trying to pluck fallen twigs from unruly spikes, and Iwaizumi is making a grand show of trying to pull away. He was the taller one, then, and stronger.

" _Stupid_ Oikawa - lemme go - "

Oikawa sticks his tongue out, brings his face close and blows.

Dust speckles the wind, dust and leaves, and resolutions made on a whim in the playground.

 

/

 

When he is fifteen, a girl asks him out for the first time, and Oikawa breaks his promise to himself.

Iwaizumi never knows about it.

She breaks up with him a week later, and Oikawa shakes it off, tells Iwaizumi, breezily, _we never even kissed_ , and starts dating someone new.

 

/

 

It's not in his nature to forget.

It's not in his nature, either, to forgive, but what's done is done, and _first kisses_ , it seems to Oikawa, are really kind of overrated anyway as a _thing_. He tells himself that, to make himself feel better.

It works, sometimes, and sometimes, it doesn't. He knows how he is.

_Stubborn._

_Stupid. Stubborn -_

 

/

 

That's a word that's lingered on his skin like one of Iwaizumi's punches, the hard, _familiar_ imprint of his fist on his forearm, his bicep, of his arm round his neck in a headlock, with a grip that's sure as steel, and steady.

Oikawa, porcelain-pale, thinks he'll crack one day.

Today is an awfully inconvenient time for it to be _the_ day.

As he takes off that _number one jersey_ for the last time, he folds it up, neatly, puts it away and feels something, _someone_ , pressing into his shoulder, and turns to see a head too close to his.

Fault lines run up his veins, fine and imperfect. His wrists throb. He's a wreck. He's _invincible_. His knees are shaking, and then -

Iwaizumi's holding him up like he weighs nothing at all.

"C'mon. Let's go home," he says.

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa announces, drunk on the moment, "I'm going to kiss you."

 

/

 

He remembers heat in the spaces between his fingers.

He remembers thinking of tomorrow, when it was forecast to rain, and they would not be able to come out to the playground.

He remembers his jawline wasn't quite as chiselled, back then.

He remembers it all, and in the shadow of the lockers and the spinning ceiling fan, he remembers, again.


End file.
